Finding My Family
by Shelly Lane
Summary: To clarify, this is from the Disney animated "Tarzan" movie. Anyway, after seeing (on YouTube) a high school act out a stage version of Tarzan, I got the idea for a backstory from Kerchak's point of view, describing why he hates humans so much and how he became leader. I rated it T to be safe (slight violence during some parts), but it leans closer to K plus, more of a PG13.


Sometimes I wonder if everyone is ashamed of themselves when they contemplate the foolishness of their youth. Looking back, I see how costly some of my mistakes might have been for others if not for the skilled leadership of Renzkot. He always knew how to save others from my errors in the days before I learned to take responsibility.

Ever since I was a young child in my mother's arms, she had told me, "Remember to treat Renzkot with utmost respect at all times. He deserves as much, for without his guidance, where would our family be? He would give his life for any of us."

I ought to have listened to her, but I failed to see what impact my actions had on him. Renzkot had so many sons and daughters, I knew I would never assume any sort of role as a leader among our family, so I spent the days of my naïve youth in the reckless company of my irresponsible friends.

There was one time when we all threw ripe fruit at each other. Renzkot took us aside and explained that we mustn't waste food during a drought, so if we must throw fruit, it would be better if we used fruit that was already rotten rather than that which was ripe. He said the fruit of the nearby groves had already shriveled or else had failed to grow at all. The nearest groves where our family would be able to find food were on the other side of the mountain, so we must make the fruit here last for as long as we could.

When my friends and I were nearly too old to be considered children but still too young to have the first traces of silver in our fur, we noticed tracks that looked like small versions of a leopard's paw print. We were curious to know what this strange creature could be, so without a word to any of our other family members, we began tracking it. When we saw what it was, we felt extremely foolish. Anyone ought to know that the most likely explanation for small leopard tracks would be a small leopard. It looked to be about half grown.

The leopard glared at us from the branch where it had been napping. The twitching tail and jerking shoulders were enough to let us know that our foolishness would result in death.

Although I was irresponsible, it wasn't in my nature to be outspoken, so I was nearly startled by my own audacity when I found myself addressing the other creature. "We don't want to fight."

"Oh?" The leopard nearly laughed. "I must say I've never heard that one before."

"We don't want to fight," I repeated, stepping between the leopard and my friends, "but we will if we must."

"Why are you here?" the leopard asked, continuing to twitch its tail. "Shouldn't you be with your family? I know that groups of young male gorillas often leave their families when they reach a certain age, but you're a little young, aren't you?"

"We noticed your tracks were smaller than those of most leopards. We thought you might be a kind of animal we hadn't seen before."

"Hmm." In all the time it had been watching us, the leopard had yet to blink. "Did no one ever tell you that the best way to avoid trouble is not to get involved in matters that are none of your concern?"

"You are right, and we apologize. We'll just be on our way."

"One of you won't be!" the leopard snarled. "I know Renzkot is nowhere near. Although I'm not nearly as large as you gorillas, I'm much swifter and more agile. I wouldn't dream of challenging a silverback, at least not yet, but any of you would do nicely for my next meal. I'm so dreadfully tired of okapi! Now the only question is..." It licked its lips. "Which of you will it be?"

"Myself."

I could hardly believe what I had just said, but before I had time to consider the audacity of my words, the leopard sprang. As my friends ran toward the safety of our family, I began the first battle of my life. This was no friendly tussle among friends; if I made the slightest error, it would be fatal. I heard a snap, much like the sound of a dry twig, and then I felt extreme pressure on my arm. It seemed useless when I tried to move it, but I continued fighting. The marks from the leopard's claws burned like the blaze when lightning strikes a tree during a storm, but just as I was beginning to wonder whether or not it would hurt less if I simply allowed myself to be eaten, the leopard returned to its tree.

"Very well!" it growled in rage. "You've defeated me this time, but I vow we shall meet again, and when that day comes, you'll learn what comes of tracking creatures smaller than oneself!"

I was too breathless to reply, but it didn't matter. The leopard retreated to higher branches without waiting for my answer.

As I made my way back to my family, I was walking slower than usual since I was injured from the fight. This gave me time to think. My heedlessness had nearly gotten me killed. I remembered other times when I had been just as thoughtless, and I realized that this was how Renzkot must feel. It was his job to protect our family, even from its own younger members. I had put him in this much danger each time I had caused trouble.

That night, as he sat under the stars, I saw clearly how much silver was in his fur. Rather than simply having a patch on his back, the silver covered him to the point where there was nearly no black fur left on his body. Thinking of how best to address him, I silently sat beside him.

"It will heal," he stated. Before I had a chance to ask what he meant, Renzkot explained, "Your arm will work again, but for the rest of your life, even the slightest injury to the arm will cause you great pain."

"I have behaved foolishly," I responded. "In doing so, I have caused even more harm to my family than to myself. How can I even begin to apologize?"

Renzkot nearly chuckled. "I did my share of foolish things when I was your age. It is the way of young apes."

"I promise not to be irresponsible anymore. From now on, I will consider the consequences of my actions, not only for myself, but for the rest of our family as well."

He nodded sagely. "I see you have learned a great deal of wisdom in just one afternoon. There are many who do not learn it at all."

"You seem troubled," I remarked. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"It's the gathering clouds," he answered. "My mother once told me that raindrops are the tears of those who have gone on before us, those who have already left behind this lifetime. Their tears fall when they see a family that suffers a terrible loss, such as the death of a great leader."

When I told my sister about it later, she smiled sadly, but she shook her head.

"Mere superstition," she stated. "Raindrops are simply the sky's way of sending the water we need for fruits to grow."

She had never been reckless, as I had formerly been. She was always quiet, mostly trying to find reasons for the world's occurrences, but always needing facts before she was capable of believing anything. To be honest, I think she was humiliated to have such an irresponsible brother, but to her credit, she never once complained or tried to pick a fight over our differences. She seemed genuinely happy as I became more serious, more considerate of Renzkot and the rest of our family.

I would be happy to say that after I matured in both age and mentality, we lived for many happy years under Renzkot's leadership until the day he peacefully succumbed to old age as raindrops fell, and then one of his sons became our family's new leader, and he showed all the wisdom and care as his father before him, but this was not to be. Not long after my talk with Renzkot, a species of hairless apes descended upon our family, killing them all with weapons that sounded like thunder but made lightning strike their victims. These hairless apes did not eat what they killed, so to this day, I can't understand why they murdered every member of my family. Their lightning nearly struck me, but my sister stepped between me and the ape with the weapon. I fell as if I had been killed, hoping that they would leave me in peace if they thought I was dead.

When the hairless apes finally left, I began searching for survivors. The fur of Renzkot's head had turned red from his blood. My eyes began to sting, but I heard someone call my name. Hurrying over toward the sound, I saw my sister.

"You see..." She spoke as if every word pained her, as if she were having trouble taking a breath. "I told you..." She paused, making a sound in her throat as if she were choking. "Raindrops...are...water...for fruits." Tears filled her eyes as she winced in agony. "Renzkot...is dead...and...the sun is...shining." She gasped, writhing in the breathless torment that had been meant for me. "Birds sing..." After a long pause, she concluded, "No...one...cries for...great leader's...death."

Feeling my own throat tighten, I asked, "What can I do to help you? Ask me anything!"

She held up her trembling hand. "Just...take...my..."

I gripped the hand tightly.

"Promise...me...that you..." She died before she could finish her sentence.

I never have been one to express my emotions well. During times of grief, I tend to fall into silence, broken only by occasional bouts of anger. I brooded a few days; then, realizing there was nothing more to be done for my fallen family, I began wandering. I wasn't sure where I was going; I just knew I could no longer bear to remain in a place that would forever remind me of such tragedy.

After several days, I heard a familiar voice. "Without your family again, I see!"

Turning, I saw the same leopard that I had fought before my family died.

"What do you want?!" I demanded brusquely.

"Like you, I have journeyed far." The leopard was stretched out on top of a rock, sunning itself. "I have gone to a treeless plain and seen many strange creatures. There are animals that are striped like okapis, but the stripes of these animals cover their whole bodies. They are chased by tawny lionesses. I have seen creatures that are spotted like leopards, but they are smaller and not nearly as strong; however, they run faster than any other beasts."

"Why are you telling me this?" I kept eyeing all possible routes of escape, making sure to keep my distance from the leopard, yet never letting anything distract me from the spotted form with unblinking eyes that stared at me intently.

"You apes think you're the only species that matters! Well, you're not! The world is diverse, yet you apes believe that any animal that doesn't conform to your family is insignificant!"

"We do not think of ourselves as the only species that matters," I replied. "We think of ourselves as the only species that can be trusted, unlike you leopards!"

It snarled. "I'll have you know I am no leopard! I am a leopardess!" She began licking her paw. "One must always call creatures by the correct name. Is it not so, Kerchak?"

I glared. "How did you know my...?"

"You're not very observant." She smiled cruelly. "A fine quality in any animal. The ones who pay attention are the ones that bother me. They make my hunting more difficult."

Losing my temper, I roared and beat my chest.

The leopardess twitched her tail, continuing to smirk. "Impressive! I was nearly able to take you seriously. However, if I may make a slight suggestion, you still need to perfect your technique. Perhaps next time, you should..."

I lunged toward the leopardess, intending to grab her and throw her against the ground hard enough to break her spine, but she agilely evaded my grasp.

Clicking her tongue in disapproval, she shook her head. "You've got to learn to use a clear head when you attack. If anger clouds your judgment, you'll never be able to defend yourself..." Her eyes narrowed maliciously as she added, "Or anyone else, for that matter."

With that, she calmly walked away, as if we had discussed nothing more than the number of birds in the nearest tree.

When several more days had passed, I found a group of other gorillas. Greeting them as politely as I could, I asked permission to speak with their leader.

"We don't have a leader," one of the females answered. "We lead ourselves."

I frowned. "Who protects you?"

She crossed her arms. "What makes you think we need anyone's protection? Any female of worth in this world is capable of protecting herself!"

"It is true," I replied, "but any male of worth in this world will not allow her to do so."

"Females don't need the permission of males to do anything."

"A good male takes responsibility and protects his female, not because she is weak, but because he cares too much for her to see her suffer alone; he will either share her burden or take it upon his own shoulders."

"Well, aren't you charming?" she responded, but her tone was flat, showing that she clearly had no use for me.

Hiding a sigh, I attempted to turn the conversation back in the right direction. "I think we're getting off to a bad start. I'm not here to insult anyone. I just want to know if there's anything I can do to help this family."

"Is that why you were asking to talk to our leader?"

"I wanted to talk with him so he would know that I'm not here to fight. I've had enough battles to last the rest of my lifetime."

She stared at me for several moments, as if trying to decide whether or not I could be trusted, before she finally stated, "I'm Kala."

"Kerchak," I replied. Remembering to use courtesy, I added, "It's a pleasure to meet you and your family, Kala."

"Save the formalities. We've got work to do."

Kala explained that her family was a group of misfits that had banded together. Some had lost their families to the same hairless apes that had taken mine. Others had seen their families succumb to illness. There were even those who couldn't remember what had happened to their families; they had drifted through the jungle alone from an early age.

"And your family?" I asked.

"This is my family," Kala answered. "I was born here. Those two over there are my mother and sister. We always wanted a large family, but with the exception of a few other females, we were the only ones each other ever had, so when we found other gorillas who needed a family, we sort of took them in. We're stronger when we band together. That's why with or without your help, we're perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves. However, if you won't go away until you commit your valiant act of heroism for the day, why don't you go explore the area and find a place where we'll be relatively protected from the rain? It's been raining so much lately that we're sure to be flooded out before long, but we can't go to higher ground because those hairless apes are hunting there."

"I know somewhere you'll be safe."

She frowned. "And where is that?"

"Three mango groves to the north, past the tall rocks, and a day's walk to the west."

"Are you purposely trying to get us killed?! To get there, we'll have to pass through one of the most treacherous parts of the jungle! Nothing there but leopards, venomous snakes..."

"I will protect you from all around you," I promised, trying not to lose my patience.

Kala rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure you will! You'll desert us at the first opportunity!"

"I will be here!" I argued. "Would I have offered to help if I didn't intend to be of service?!

Although I had promised myself that I would try to be more tolerant and understanding, I was beginning to hate her. When I found a place to nest for the night, she made sure to mention all the reasons why the place I had chosen was too dangerous. When I told everyone that it was time to rise, Kala either fussed that the sun was not yet high enough for us to be able to see clearly or that it was already so late in the day that night would overtake us before we found a safe nesting ground. I decided that even though being alone was a miserable existence, it wasn't nearly as bad as living with the wrong family, so I made up my mind to leave as soon as the group had reached safety. After all, Kala certainly had enough of a strong will to lead her family, and she had made it clear that I was unwelcome. After spending far too long on a journey with a temperamental female, I finally made it to the area where Renzkot had always taken our family during the rains, somewhere very difficult for the hairless apes to reach.

"I can't believe it," Kala remarked. "You actually kept your promise."

"I said I would!" I retorted.

"Thank you."

The sincerity and warmth in her voice surprised me.

I softened my tone. "You're welcome."

"I'm sorry I was so rude earlier. I ought to have taken time to get to know you before judging. I usually try to see the best in others."

"You had good reasons for your lack of trust when meeting a stranger," I replied.

She began running her fingers through my fur.

"What are you doing?"

"Grooming our family's new leader."

I frowned. "What?"

"You actually got us through the most dangerous parts of the jungle without getting any of us killed. There's plenty of food here, and we'll have a bit of shelter from the rains. You were sincere in your desire to help us. All that being said, I think it's only fitting that our family looks to you now." She chuckled. "Is that a bit of silver I see on your back? I thought you were still too young to get any silver fur."

"Maybe it's because I worry too much," I suggested.

"Well, you'll be doing a lot more of that now that we're depending on your leadership," Kala remarked.

Why hadn't I noticed before that when she actually smiled, her face was somewhat attractive? In fact, when the sunlight hit her fur, she was kind of...well, she was sort of beautiful. Of course, I couldn't tell her that. I was the family's new leader. I couldn't appear too maudlin.

I flinched when she began grooming the fur on the shoulder of the arm I had injured when I first fought the leopard.

"Are you alright?" she asked kindly.

Her voice was so tender, so caring! She was genuinely concerned for me!

"An old injury," I explained, "but I barely notice it anymore."

"How brave of you!" She smiled at me. "I knew I chose the right leader for our family! I try to put faith in what I am most able to believe, but sometimes, I get a little sidetracked."

I wasn't sure what she meant by that, but I didn't ask.

I suppose I don't have to say what eventually happened. I eventually told Kala how I felt, and we realized that we needed each other to have and to hold. She told me that I was in her heart, and I knew she was certainly in mine. (Although I do my best to hide it when necessary, I do have a heart.) The bond between us would never be broken.

The only thing missing that would complete the happiness in our lives was our own son or daughter. Kala was so patient and nurturing that it seemed unfair that she would never be a mother, and although I tried to keep my emotions to myself, I noticed that the children seemed to bring out a softer side in me. I would catch myself actually smiling or laughing as I played with them. After many years together, we finally lost hope of ever having our own little ray of sunshine.

One evening, I noticed Kala sitting by herself, a sign that she was either worried or upset about something. I gave her a considerable amount of time to herself, but seeing that her mood still didn't improve, I decided to see if I could get her to tell me what was the matter.

I sat beside her and asked gently, "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid!"

I dried the tears that had begun coursing down her face. "Afraid of what?"

"False hope!"

I put my arms around her, not sure of what to say, but wanting her to know I was still there for her.

"Kerchak, I don't dare believe it, but I almost think I'm...that is to say, I think we're going to be..." She shook her head. "I can't say it!"

She didn't have to say it. Every mother in our family began noting that Kala seemed to be gaining weight and that her face had taken on a certain glow. It was all any of the females in our family talked about for several months! Kala seemed to accept it as fact rather than false hope, for she began singing lullabies as she fell asleep each night. The other females would smile and remark that she was going to be a good mother.

I wasn't sure I was ready for this. I had wanted nothing more than my own child for years, and now that I was about to get the one thing that I wanted most, I was worried. What if I wasn't a good enough father? What if my child repeated my mistakes?

I still have these worries, even though my son celebrated his first full week of life yesterday. When I see Kala holding him, I am filled with a sense of pride I cannot begin to describe. He has many of his mother's features, but I recognize some of myself in his young face. When I hold my son, I feel unworthy of such a wonderful gift, but despite my awe, I also feel protective, ready to slaughter any creature that even glances at him the wrong way. That's not to say there have been any problems. The rest of our family adores him.

Despite the suffering and loss that I have faced, and despite the irresponsibility of my youth, I finally have the knowledge that I have done something worthwhile in life. I am the leader of a strong family, and I have a loving wife and the child we have long awaited. Now I feel as if nothing could go wrong, as if I will never again face grief or hardship. As Kala rocks our baby to sleep and sings him a lullaby, I lightly stroke his hand.

"Our family will look to you one day," I whisper, "but I know you will be able to take care of them..." How wonderful it is at last to be able to speak the words, "my son."


End file.
